Brothers
by Kipcha
Summary: Season 3 Midseason Finale Spoilers! "Daryl Dixon was many things, but he was no coward. But even he had to admit, as he was harshly shoved into the arena with a burlap sack over his head, he could feel his hands beginning to shake and his heart beginning to race." Daryl contemplates exactly who is family is now. Maybe Merle just didn't fit into his life anymore.


_Spoilers for the Season 3 Midseason Finale ahead. You have been warned._

* * *

Daryl Dixon was many things.

He was a provider, a hunter and a protector. He could be rash and sometimes jump to conclusions, but he always had good intentions at heart. He did not trust easily and commonly battled with doubts, wondering where exactly he fit in with the group he was with now. He was passionate about whatever his role was, however, and did everything he could to fulfill his unspoken promises to each and every one of them. He was loyal, almost to a fault.

Yes, Daryl Dixon was indeed many things.

Daryl Dixon was no coward.

But even he had to admit, as he was harshly shoved into the arena with a burlap sack over his head, he could feel his hands beginning to shake and his heart beginning to race. He fought desperately, trying to fight off the men that held him at each side, their fingers digging cruelly into his biceps.

A voice, strong and commanding, rang through the silence that had before only been broken by his own rasping breath.

"This is one of the terrorists!"

Just like that, the bag was gone. Daryl refused to blink as the light blinded him for a moment, the flames illuminating an entire town of people who surrounded him. So many people, each of them with more hateful eyes then the last.

"Merle's own brother."

His head whipped around, his eyes meeting the disbelieving gaze of the one and only Merle Dixon. Despite the situation, Daryl couldn't help the leap of joy in his stomach at the sight of his brother.

He had never once shown doubt to any of the others, he knew his brother was one tough son of a bitch. No damn walking corpse would be taking him down, even with a bleeding stump of an arm. He knew he would survive.

But still, seeing him there filled him with relief.

Before he realised that they were both likely to die in but a few moments.

"What should we do with them, huh?" Daryl glanced at their leader from the corner of his eye, quickly taking in the strong, tall build and the stark, new eye patch that covered his right eye. Judging by the fresh bloodstains, he assumed the injury was recent. For just a moment, Daryl allowed himself the pleasure of wondering which of his comrades had managed the blow. Damn son of a bitch deserved it. Deserved one of his arrows through his skull too.

Shouts rose around the group, a number of the citizens suddenly demanding his death. He turned, growing more unsure by the second.

His mind shifted to the opossum he had called 'Dinner'. It had pushed itself into the corner, hissing madly as it desperately seeked a way out of the situation, fighting for its life before his crossbow bolt had pierced its body, killing it.

Daryl, the great and mighty fighter, one of the people who had managed to fight for so long to keep that group safe, was now no better than Dinner. Cornered, hissing and afraid, fighting against the inevitable.

Yet somehow, he doubted they would kill him as mercifully as he had killed that opossum.

He leveled his gaze, trying madly to see something that he might have missed before, flexing his hands in distress and cursing the binding that held them behind his back. There had to be some weak point, something that could save him. Yet, nothing came.

He looked along the outskirts of the citizens, along the roofs. No reassuring silhouettes made themselves known and he felt his heart sink a little more. He hoped Glenn and Maggie made it out okay, but that would also mean that the others, Rick included, were out of helping range. They all knew that Daryl was capable and they would never expect that he had been captured. They would never suspect he now stood in the belly of the beast, prepped for a public execution. He felt like he was going to be sick when his mind reached its conclusion.

They weren't coming.

The large man, whom he assumed was the man the dark woman had referred to as 'The Governor', approached Merle, a flat look in his single eye.

"You wanted your brother. Now you got him."

The barbaric shouts rose in volume, baying for his blood. They wanted him dead, they were demanding it.

He was going to die.

He drew in shaky breaths, trying his best to keep his emotions out of control. He could not die like a whimpering dog, he wouldn't. Besides, giving up like this was not like him at all. This fight wasn't over till it was over. He may not have a weapon or a seeming hope in hell, but he still had his brother. Him and Merle had made it out of tighter jams then this.

Couldn't think of any right now, but he knew they had.

His gaze darted wildly, from the insane demands of the citizens to the unsettling relaxed expression on his brother's face to finally the Governor, who circled with chilling predatory efficiency. His movements were smooth and graceful, almost as if he were taking an evening stroll.

He looked to Merle, their eyes meeting.

Merle had a plan, he had to. They were the brothers who could survive anything.

"Let him go!"

Daryl's eyes jerked up, locking on a very familiar blonde figure.

_How...?_

"Phillip, let him go!"

She fought, although she was easily subdued. Daryl's momentary hope at seeing her again, here of all places, were smothered as a gun aimed directly at her.

So she was powerless, too. Andrea wouldn't be saving them either, no matter what she thought her influence was. But maybe she could convince them?

"Stay out of this."

"He's my friend!"

For a split second, Daryl wondered if this could be their ticket. Andrea had called the man by name, she was obviously confident enough to approach him in the middle of all this. Maybe she could talk to him...

"It's not my decision anymore. The people have spoken."

Daryl swallowed, feeling himself begin to shake a little more noticeably and cursing himself for it. His fear was sickening and an embarrassment. He watched as Andrea's eyes darted to his, frantic and disbelieving. Tears filled them and he knew that she had done all she could. His savior would not be her.

The man dubbed The Governor stepped forward, a hunting knife appearing in his hands from one of his subordinates. He showed no emotion, his expression flat and cool as he regarded the younger Dixon brother before him. Daryl glared back, unwilling to back down although the nausea tickled his throat at the thought of what might be coming from that knife in moments. Would they slit his throat like so many animals he had hunted? Or perhaps they would drive it up under his chin, destroy his brain so he didn't come back. Once again, a familiar motion, one that he himself had performed over and over on the dead.

It was almost ironic.

Daryl shook his head to clear his thoughts. He needed a plan, not to be thinking about this damn poetic justice bullshit.

He wasn't a quitter.

He nearly flinched when the knife raised and twirled in the air, signalling for him to turn around. Bastard wasn't even man enough to look him in the eye while he killed him? Hell with that.

He steeled himself, breathing deeply and planted his feet.

"If you're gonna kill me, you better look me in the eye, you damn bastard."

The older man showed no twitch of emotion. "I'm cuttin' you lose, so you best be turning before I decide to take care of this another way."

Daryl regarded him with suspicion, refusing to believe the words. Cut him lose? No way. He may not be a college graduate but he wasn't a damn idiot.

When Daryl showed no sign of moving, the Governor's single blue eye flickered to his left. Daryl didn't even have a chance to turn his head before the blow landed in his stomach, forcing him to double over from the force of the hit.

"Now when this man tells you to do somethin', you best be doing it." Drawled Merle from above, a sly tone to his voice. Daryl's hand shot out to steady himself, wondering what was going through his brother's head. "He told you to turn around, now do it."

Daryl looked up in time to see his brother turn theatrically, raising his hand in the air. "These good folks know that I'll do anythin' to please them! They seen it time an' time again! I'll prove to y'all I ain't no traitor!"

The Governor regarded Merle, a calculating look crossing his features like a cat examining a mouse it had caught. "Well, it's a good thing you'll get to prove yourself then. You two brothers are going to be facing off." He raised his voice, its commanding tone holding the attention of every single person around the ring. "In a fight to the death! Winner walks a free man!"

A cheer exploded around them, chanting Merle's name and his own death.

Before Daryl could stand, the Governor was behind him, the knife slicing cleanly through the rope like butter. Daryl jerked his hands forward, hurriedly rubbing life into them in an attempt to prepare for what was to come. His mouth twisted bitterly at the pins and needles sensation in his hands as life was pumped into them by his frantic heart.

The Governor backed away, raising his hands dramatically. "Bring em' in!"

Daryl stood, staring at Merle. The man didn't spare him so much as a glance, choosing instead to pace the area, riling up the ring of spectators.

His brother did have a plan... Right?

A rasping sound caught the younger Dixon's attention and he whirled around, immediately assessing the threat. Four walkers, each being controlled by a handler via a metal collar and pole. The walkers hissed at the commotion and sound, the crowd driving them into a frenzy as the reached out desperately with bony fingers, seeking the flesh that stood mere inches away from them. The townspeople seemed unconcerned. If anything, the sight of the walkers seemed to excite them further.

Merle seemed suddenly less confident, his gaze locked on the teeth the snapped and snarled at those around them. The color drained from his face, although he kept the grin in place like a professional.

Daryl whirled, marching towards the Governor. "You son of a bitch! I'm gonna ri-"

No less than three guns were aimed on him, pinning him in place as he seethed. Daryl knew he was stuck.

The Governor, bastard that he was, pretended nothing had even happened. "Let's get started."

The sound of gravel being disturbed made Daryl turn and he ducked just in time to avoid Merle's fist whizzing over his head. He stumbled backwards, refusing to believe what was happening, when a sudden hiss whispered past his ear.

He forced himself to lurch forward as a walker missed grasping his arm by seconds, the creature groaning as it pulled against the handler, its milky eyes crazed with hunger. Its jaw clicked as it chomped the air he had almost occupied, its rotted teeth smashing together and flecks of saliva flying through the night, glistening in the flickering light of the fires.

Daryl was grabbed roughly by the back of his shirt and pulled forward away from the corpse, only to be tossed unceremoniously to the ground. Without a chance to even react, Merle's boot collided painfully with his side. Daryl coughed, shocked as another blow landed, each with cruel precision.

Then it hit him.

His brother was serious.

He was completely alone in this.

"I'm gonna do," Another kick. "Whatever I gotta do," Daryl gasped for air. Faintly, beyond the cheering, he could hear Andrea begging for it to stop. "To prove my loyalty to this town!"

Chants, shouts and even laughter was heard. He felt like he was going to be sick.

His own brother... The one he had searched for for so long...

Was going to kill him.

All that time surviving through the winter, pushing with all his might against those damn walkers and eating the lousiest shit out there just to survive, living in Hell... And this is how he went.

Betrayed by his own blood.

Alone.

He rolled aside in an effort to avoid Merle's next blow, narrowly missing the groping fingers of the largest male walker. He leapt away as the walker was allowed closer by its handler, the groaning hiss growing more urgent as Daryl dodged again. The crowd let out a disappointed whine, the growing frenzy of blood lust sending electricity crackling through the air in anticipation.

Daryl's eyes raised to the boy holding the walker back, his eyes glinting in fury at the thought that this punk just tried to kill him and had the damn gall to look disappointed at his failure!

He back pedaled from the walker and quickly weaved around his brother, his movement turning smoother as his resolve hardened. If Merle was going to take this seriously and these assholes with the walkers were going to try to do him in, Daryl wouldn't be going down without fight.

Merle turned, grunting in effort before releasing a snarl of frustration when his fist met empty air. He turned, his eyes filled with rage when suddenly, he was seeing stars, a startling amount of pain exploding in his jaw.

Now, Merle beating up his younger brother was nothing new. He's taught this whelp to be tough, to survive in a tough world long before the dead had starting rising and munching on the living. The Dixon brothers had never had it easy after their Momma burned their house down. Hell, even before then. He had never coddled Daryl and when he had needed to be put in his place, Merle had done it until the message sunk in.

It was an unwritten rule that, even when he tried, Daryl never managed to land a real hit on Merle.

_Never._

The shock was clear on his face when he looked at his brother, a disbelieving smirk quirking the corner of his mouth. The younger Dixon watched warily, almost as confused by his own actions as his brother was, his eyes still conflicted. Daryl didn't want to fight. He'd spent so long searching, hoping, trying to find him. They were brothers for crying out loud...

Merle's eyes sharpened, turning feral and dangerous. Daryl felt his stomach clench in anticipation, the blood in his very veins turning to ice.

"Well, well, well." He muttered, shaking his head and chuckling. "Looks like your balls finally dropped little brother. How 'bout that, eh? Took long enough."

Daryl watched him, waiting for the moment when Merle snapped. He always did.

He didn't disappoint.

Merle barreled forward with the force of a bull, colliding with Daryl's middle to force them both to the ground, although they were strategically placed a safe distance from the walkers bordering the outside. Merle had long learned from his little gladiator fights to always keep their position in mind. With these intact rotters, that rule was particularly important. One misstep and they were both screwed.

Merle's fist collided with his brothers side, his knees locking on either side of Daryl's hips to hold him in place. His force collided repeatedly with any open spots he could find until Daryl finally bucked beneath him, knocking Merle off-balance and giving Daryl the chance he needed.

The younger brother pounced up, driving his fist into his brothers stomach before raising his elbow to connect with Merle's chin, throwing the older mans head back forcefully, his teeth clicking audibly from the blow. Merle staggered backwards, stunned by the sudden ferocity.

Daryl stood, breathing heavily as he watched Merle trying to gain his bearings as he rose to his feet. Merle's world span wildly and for one heart stopping moment, he misstepped, his ankle turning underneath him.

And sending him right towards the waiting arms of one of the walkers.

Daryl moved so quickly that hardly anyone saw it coming, desperation pumping unbelievable amounts of adrenaline through his veins. Sure, Merle had pissed him off, but he wasn't letting this happen to his brother, damn it! He had searched far too long to let a walker finish him off right after he'd found him!

As the walkers hands latched on to Merle, the older man flailed backwards. He automatically reached for the blade that normally resided in his false arm, but the weapon had long been removed by the Governor's men. Reacting quickly, he slammed the hard end of his stump forward, bashing it into the zombies mouth and temporarily preventing it from biting him. The walker growled against the hard material as it desperately dragged the man towards him, its mouth splattering drool and blood in his insane hunger.

Then Daryl was there, working impossibly fast. A quick move, a sudden snap and a collective gasp from the audience was all it took for the walker to be practically motionless on the ground, it's body useless from a broken neck although its head still lolled, jaws snapping and trying to feed, not the least bit bothered.

The sound of a gunshot snapped everyone back to reality and Daryl whirled, his eyes on the gun the Governor now had pointed directly at his head.

Everything turned cold.

"Now I'm gonna give you a choice." The Governor began quietly, the arena turning so silent that all that could be heard were the moans of the walkers. "I can either kill you by a shot to the head, which will cause you to die instantly. Or, I can shoot you in the heart." The gun lowered, pointing to his now bare chest which heaved with desperate, final breaths, all previous confidence gone in one cruel swoop. "And you'll serve us well in the arena. We could always use another biter and I ain't one to waste. I'll give you to the count of three to choose before I choose for you."

Daryl's heart fluttered madly.

"One."

He was going to die.

"Two."

The others would never even know how. He'd never get to see any of them again. Rick, Carol, Carl, Maggie, Glenn, Hershel, Beth, Little Ass-Kicker... None of them. Not even a goodbye...

"Thr-"

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Brilliant flashes of light filled the air and sounds so overwhelming rang through the night like gunfire. People began to scream as mist floated from the ground with surprising speed, clouding the air and blocking the Governor and Merle from view. Daryl darted to the side, mindful of the furious growls that indicated the walkers location. Judging by their rapid movements, they were free from their captors.

A little to his left, a garbled scream filled the air along with the rasping joy of a walker stuffing its face with still living flesh.

It was chaos, but somehow, Daryl couldn't help the feeling that rose in his chest.

He knew those flashbangs. He knew those canisters of tear gas.

They came from the prison.

He bolted in the direction he had been led from, his feet stumbling as he coughed on the gas, tears filling his eyes from the irritation. Couldn't see a damn thing through all this...

A strong hand clamped down on his shoulder and Daryl turned, ready to defend himself.

"Daryl!"

His fist froze in mid-hit, just inches from the face of none other than Rick Grimes.

Daryl Dixon refused to acknowledge the lump that suddenly formed in his throat at the sight of Rick with Glenn at his back, who's cuts were still dripping blood and his face beaten to a pulp. Both of them wore relieved expressions, although they quickly turned more serious as more screams filled the air. Belatedly, he could only hope none of them belonged to Andrea.

"Daryl, we gotta get out of here! Now!"

He definitely did not feel like he could cry. Daryl Dixon was many things, but he wasn't a coward. He wasn't no pansy neither.

Still, as he, Glenn and Rick fled without incident from the panic they had created, Daryl couldn't help but look over his shoulder for Merle. But his brother was nowhere to be found.

But Daryl didn't doubt for a second that he had made it out. His brother was one tough son of a bitch.

* * *

They moved through the night in silence, the moonlight their only guide through the forest.

Rick led the way, his hand on his gun at all times, ready to draw it at the sign of any movement. Daryl marched at his shoulder, the reassuring weight of his crossbow once again in his hands. Something Glenn had taken the liberty of retrieving, for which Daryl was thankful. This crossbow had served him well, he wouldn't have been the same without it.

Michonne moved smoothly behind him, her hand never quite leaving the hilt of the katana. He noticed Glenn and Maggie keeping a wary eye on her, their own trigger fingers itching. Not that he could blame them after what they'd gone through and especially after that little stunt she pulled abandoning them like that. She had some nerve even daring to show her face again, but they all knew they needed her. They all knew this fight wasn't over by a long shot.

Glenn and Maggie were last in line, watching their backs. They whispered to each other and Daryl didn't try to listen. They had a lot to sort out.

Daryl felt an inkling of guilt. Merle had been the one to do it to Glenn, not to mention setting a walker on him. The thought of it made him sick to his stomach.

"You sure you're okay?"

Daryl flinched at the sudden voice, looking to Rick. The cop looked at him carefully, taking on what some of the group called his "interrogation eyes". When suddenly, Rick would make a time warp and be a cop again, chewing out some punk in an interrogation room and tried to see into their very soul. Their darkest secrets and fears. To make them confess to things they would rather keep hidden.

When it was mentioned to him, Rick had seemed almost offended. Apparently, he'd always been the good cop in his and Shane's little "good cop, bad cop" routine.

Surprise surprise.

Maybe it hadn't been something he'd developed as a cop, but it was something he'd perfected since the world went to Hell. It unnerved Daryl a little to have those eyes focused to intensely on him, his previous misgivings towards men of the law would occasionally make him wary, if only for a second before he reminded himself who it was he was talking to. Rick was nothing like those bastard cops he knew before.

Rick was a man of honor and respect. Someone that even he would occasionally look up to.

Daryl couldn't remember a time before all this that he really had a male role model. He took a moment to ponder what his life may have been like if they had met before, but somehow the image couldn't quite form.

Still, Rick was the one he trusted above all others.

But that didn't make the situation any more comfortable.

"Fine." He replied shortly, hoping the conversation would be dropped.

No such luck.

"That was rough back there." Rick continued, his eyes returning to the task at hand. They moved constantly, darting around their environment searching for followers, living or not. "I want to apologize."

Daryl raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Apologize?"

"Yeah." Rick swallowed heavily, a look of guilt in his eyes. "I always assume you'll manage no matter what task is thrown at you. Sure, I was hesitant to leave you, but I did it anyways. I should have stayed and helped you look for your brother after getting Glenn and Maggie to safety." His frown deepened, his brow creasing. "And I definitely shoulda been there a hell of a lot sooner. We were worried as hell but we all thought that you'd be fine, you always are. We didn't want to panic. He nearly... We almost let him..." His words choked off in frustration, anger and an underlying grief.

"But he didn't." Daryl reminded him smoothly, readjusting the position of his crossbow in discomfort. His shoulder was stiff and while he didn't want to mention it, everything hurt. But he wasn't about to be a little bitch about it.

The conversation went silent. Uncomfortably so. Daryl knew that Rick was not satisfied and breathed a heavy sigh.

Rick was already carrying too much. He never mentioned it, but they all saw it. It weighed more heavily on the mans shoulder more every single day. The weight of each and every one of them. It had been bad before, but the loss of Lori, T-Dog and even Oscar was taking a cruel toll on the mans soul.

Even though Daryl didn't like emotional talks, he knew he owed it to this man.

"Thanks for comin' for me."

Rick didn't react to the words, showed no outward sign at them, but Daryl knew he heard. Rick swallowed heavily, his eyes far older than they should have been.

"I'm sorry we couldn't take him too. But we needed to get you and go."

Daryl nodded. "Yeah, Merle ain't exactly the sneaky sort. It woulda been hella awkward with the current situation anyways." The Dixon paused. "I don't think I could bring him back anyways. Not after what he did and what... He could do."

Rick remained silent, knowing no words were needed. They would never have been able to allow Merle to roam the prison like everyone else. Not with everything that happened with Glenn and Maggie. Not with baby Judith to protect. They needed to look after their own and while Daryl didn't want to admit it, Merle wasn't top priority anymore.

No, Daryl supposed, perhaps his brother just... Didn't fit into his life anymore.

The thought filled him with sudden melancholy.

"You know you're part of our family, right?"

Daryl looked at Rick, who remained ever vigilant for a threat. "My family doesn't end with Carl and Judith." There was a catch in Rick's voice and he paused for a few minutes, collecting his thoughts. Guilt over Lori had nowhere near left the tortured mans thoughts.

"It includes all of us. I know the others feel the same way. Everyone, we're a family now. You fit well with all of us. I just hope you know it's more than just because you're a provider, because it is. We all care about each other. We all care about you."

Rick turned and looked him straight in the eye, his face completely serious. "You ever find yourself in trouble or in need of something, we'll be there. We work together and we stick together. You're my brother now, I swear I'll do my best to do honor by that."

Rick turned back to business, back to the focused protector of the group. "So just know, no matter what, you ain't ever alone."

Daryl kept himself as neutral as possible, knowing that he had already been too emotional today then he needed to be for the rest of his life. He was normally a pretty simple person, never showing too much until his rage just built to the point where he couldn't help but explode with it. Otherwise, he was usually pretty mild-mannered with a dry sense of humor. Calm and collected in the face of danger. Tonight, he had shown a side of himself that he didn't think he'd ever show. A side of fear.

And now... He didn't dare give a name to this horrible sappy warmth that was spreading through his chest.

Still, he couldn't quite keep the small quirk to his lips down. "Same to you, brother."

He fancied he saw a small smile on the normally grim officers face as well.

* * *

_Inspired by the sneak peek of the next episode, "Suicide King", of Merle and Daryl in the arena. I watched the Season 1 marathon on Sunday on AMC and every time this clip came on, it pissed me off to no end. All because of Norman Reedus being a brilliant actor. Because when he is standing there, looking so scared when we have never seen that side to Daryl before, it makes me just want to rage! It has to be so scary in his situation, trapped and surrounded by people who hate you!_

_Anyways, I get the feeling the relationship between the Dixon brothers may be less... Strained then I decided to show here, but I can't help but feel that Merle probably wasn't the most caring of siblings. Somehow, if push came to shove and one of them had to die... Well, I think Merle would probably think about saving himself first and foremost. "Noble" would not be my choice word to describe him._


End file.
